


The Naked Truth

by zeph317



Category: Weiß Kreuz
Genre: Adult Content, Fluff, Humor, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-08
Updated: 2012-08-08
Packaged: 2017-11-11 17:50:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,516
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/481215
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zeph317/pseuds/zeph317
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Waking up to an assassin in his bed would be bad enough, but Ken really can’t cope with a naked, smirking one.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Naked Truth

**Author's Note:**

> This was written for the [ Weiß Kreuz Reverse Fest ](http://wk-reverse-fest.livejournal.com/) on LJ, which you should definitely check out! 
> 
> The prompt I was given was: Ken still wasn't sure how they had ended up engaged in a stare-down contest while naked in the same bed. Forget the stare-down. Naked in a bed was enough to freak out over. | Other notes: Any take on the prompt is okay, but I'm happier when it's not fluff right away without some banter or difficulty to overcome. I don't really envision Schuldig as the type to love from the heart at the drop of a hat.
> 
> This attempt at humor is set in an AU version of the Kapitel timeline where Weiss and Schwarz know a bit more about each other – like each other’s names and the fact they all want Takatori to fail.

It was the breath wafting softly over the back of his neck that woke Ken. Then he noticed the arm clenched around his waist, pinning him to his sheets. 

First instinct was to the freak the fuck out and flail free, but he took an instant to reconnoiter. He’d gone to bed alone last night in his apartment above the shop – just like he had every damn night since he’d joined Weiss. So, the body wasn’t a smoking hot girl he’d picked up. Or guy.

And it couldn’t be Omi. Now that he was more awake, he could feel long, bare legs intertwined with his own, and Omi wouldn’t have been able to reach. That pointed more to Yohji who had been known to fall into strange beds after a long night of partying. But Ken didn’t smell the overwhelming boozy cloud that normally enveloped Yohji at those times.

If it were Aya … well, that didn’t even bear thinking, because if Aya had somehow crawled into his bed at least mostly naked, Ken wouldn’t be alive much longer to enjoy it.

When he was satisfied after that instant that he wouldn’t be assaulting a friend or teammate, Ken risked a glance over his shoulder. He saw red and then he _saw red_. He twisted out from under the arm, reached for the nearest weapon then walloped the head covered in bright orange-red hair with his floppy pillow. He kept hitting until the arm was thrown over the head and its hand caught the corner of the pillow to halt the barrage.

One narrowed, blue eye glared at him from under the fringe of hair. “What the hell is wrong with you?”

Ken’s eyes widened until he felt them bulge. “What do you mean what the hell is wrong with me? Why the hell are you in my bed?!”

The initial moment of terror was fading now that he knew it really was the Schwarz assassin. Even though the two teams had made a tentative truce to take down Reiji Takatori, Ken had trouble trusting the weirdos. Ken wasn’t sure exactly how Omi was managing to get inside information from them, but so far, it had saved Weiss some extra work and extra fights with the foreigners. This guy in his bed was the one who was always smirking, could do things with his mind, the one with the crazy-ass name in some foreign language that was a real mouthful…

“That’s not the only thing I’ve got that’s a mouthful,” the guy said, and Ken pulled the pillow free to whack him again. “Ouch.”

“Why are you in my bed? How did you get in here? Why are you sleeping with me? And why are we naked? How did I get naked?” Ken distinctly remembered going to bed in his plaid boxers, just like usual. He could feel the scratch of the sheets against his ass though, so he knew the boxers had come off somehow.

“It’s Schuldig, actually,” the guy, the Schuldig, said as he let go of the pillow and continued to stare at Ken, raking his eyes down over Ken’s chest and lower. 

Ken snatched his pillow back to cover his chest like a maiden shielding her breasts, making sure the sheet pooled in his lap and covered all the essential bits. Schuldig didn’t appear to have the same thought of modesty as he stretched his arms high above his head, fingers wiggling, and the sheet edged down, down, down until Ken was sure he’d be able to answer the second most pondered question of Weiss – whether his carpet matched the drapes (the jury – mostly a death-defying Yohji – was still out trying to answer the No. 1 question – if _Aya’s_ matched).

As he stretched, Schuldig yawned so big, Ken was sure he could see all of Schuldig’s teeth, and maybe his tonsils and the whole way down into his evil, dark soul.

“You have a way more dramatic inner monologue than I ever would have guessed. Still waters run deep, eh?” Schuldig said.

Ken tore his eyes away from the skinny legs still stretching to the very end of his bed and realized it was always dangerous to take his eyes off the enemy. He couldn’t afford to be distracted. Even if the enemy looked really fuckable at the moment, all rumpled and naked in his bed. Schuldig smirked; Ken gulped.

“What did you think I’d sound like?” he tried to bluster.

“Kill bad guys. Soccer good. Balls fun,” Schuldig grunted and let out an extra caveman grunt for good measure. He ruined his impression with a laugh. “Of course, I know now you _do_ think balls are fun.”

Ken whacked him with the pillow before he thought about it, making Schuldig grunt in real surprise. Ken followed it by pressing on the pillow until Schuldig was flopping like a fish out of water, scrabbling at his arms until Ken released him. Schuldig drew in a deep breath, but Ken remained leaning over him.

“You never answered my question,” he said as Schuldig continued to gasp the welcome air.

“Which one? You asked like a hundred.”

Ken realized that the sheet had slipped down more while Schuldig was in his near-death throes, and he sat back to cover himself. He tried to keep his stare on Schuldig’s eyes and not on the dangerous trail of hair (dark brown – Omi would demand his winnings for the bet) that was uncovered now and led down to…

“What are you doing in my bed?” Ken demanded to distract himself.

Schuldig snorted. “I thought that was obvious. I was sleeping.”

When he didn’t answer further, Ken ground his teeth. “Then how did you get in here?”

“The window,” Schuldig said, waving in that direction. He carded his fingers through his hair then held up some to inspect for split ends.

“Stop that! You know what I want to know so why won’t you answer me straight!” Ken yelled.

“I’m just answering your questions,” Schuldig’s attempt to look innocent failed. He rolled onto his side and braced himself on his elbow so he could give Ken his full attention.

Ken didn’t appreciate the effort, especially since he could see out of the corner of his eye that the sheet had slipped down again and Schuldig had some interesting musculature right around his hip bones, down in the vee toward his groin, more defined than Ken would have imagined, if he’d imagined…

“Hey, so you’ve actually thought about me before,” Schuldig smirked at Ken’s furious look. “And you are too adorable not to rile up.” But when he reached out to ruffle Ken’s hair, Ken blocked his arm, pushing and sprawling him onto his back, pinning him in a quick move.

“So, answer me this, why are we both naked while you are sleeping in my bed?” Ken squeezed the wrist he still held and pinned it to the bed above their heads. “And make it good.”

Schuldig licked his own lips. “I’ll always make it goo– ow, I need that wrist to shoot!”

Ken let up on his grip, just until Schuldig stopped his little, pained whine. “Then give me a good explanation why I shouldn’t call my teammates or just kill you now.”

“It was my boss. He told me I had to come here,” Schuldig blurted then sighed in relief when his wrist was freed. Ken sat back and clutched the pillow to his chest again.

“Your boss wanted you to break in and sleep with me, naked? _Takatori_ wanted you to break in and sleep with me, naked?” Ken’s voice continued to rise until he was nearly shrieking. He watched Schuldig’s face go through contortions as if he wasn’t sure whether to laugh or grimace or roll his eyes so it came out as something in between.

“No, no, not Takatori. That old fool isn’t my boss,” Ken glared when Schuldig shook his head as though to clear the mental image of Takatori ordering him to do anything naked. “Crawford, you remember him, he said it was very important I come here last night. I don’t always obey,” Schuldig felt the need to add, “but when he’s had a vision, it usually pays to go along with it.”

“He had a vision about us naked?” Ken’s voice could apparently go a lot higher than he’d thought.

This time, Schuldig really did roll his eyes. “You were practically naked when I crawled into bed anyway. I just had to make sure that you were disarmed and had no weapons on you so I didn’t wake up dead.”

“I was wearing underwear! Where did you think I could hide a weapon?” Schuldig smirked but Ken hurried on before he made more innuendo. “And that doesn’t explain why _you_ had to be naked!”

“But, I always sleep naked,” Schuldig said, sticking his bottom lip out, just a little, trying to pout. And Ken was definitely not thinking about that lip and how pink it looked and how it was dented under those teeth like it was so soft and pliable…

“You’re putting thoughts in my head,” Ken glared at him again. “Omi said you’re mental, and you could read minds.”

Schuldig didn’t even seem to register the insult but smiled and managed to slither a little closer even though he was still lying on his back. Ken clasped his pillow tighter.

“I don’t even _have_ to put any ideas in your head. Those are coming all from you.” Schuldig kept staring into Ken’s eyes and licked his own lips again slowly, ending with another bite of his bottom lip. When Ken’s breath stuttered, Schuldig smirked. “It’s been a while, eh, ball boy?”

Ken tried to focus on anything other than Schuldig’s mouth. Or the pale skin just above the sheet that was almost ready to give up its valiant fight for modesty and decency. “Why did Crawford want us to sleep together?”

Schuldig made a noise that was almost a sigh. “I’m just his lackey. He doesn’t tell me anything. I just follow his orders.”

Ken squinted. “Bullshit.”

“Excuse me?” Schuldig radiated such innocence in his wide-eyed, earnest expression, Ken knew he was right.

“You’re lying,” Ken said. “You know exactly why Crawford told you to come here.” Schuldig opened his mouth, and Ken went on, “I know you’re lying. You have the same look on your face that Ouka gets when she swears it isn’t her that gooses Omi.”

Schuldig’s face did the funny grimace again. “That’s … special. Remind me to tell you something about that chick someday.”

“Why don’t you tell me something about why you are in my bed right now?” Ken tried again.

“Does it really matter?” Schuldig returned. “Crawford told me to come here tonight, I did, and now we’re both naked in a bed. It’s practically a sign.”

“A sign of what?”

“A sign that we both need to get laid,” Schuldig said then he laughed, _laughed_ when Ken shrank back and pulled the pillow with him.

“I don’t know about you, but I get plenty, thankyouverymuch,” Ken lied.

Schuldig shook his head and clucked his tongue in sympathy. “It’s okay, really. I have the same problem. It’s pretty hard to meet people when you’re a dashing international assassin, always on the move, working so many nights. I mean, really, with all the killing and plotting, who has time to date?”

Ken rolled his eyes and loosened his grip on the pillow. “You really are mental, aren’t you?”

Schuldig smiled, and for the first time all morning, it reached his eyes. “So I’ve been told.”

Ken decided he’d had enough. He flopped down on his side of the bed, forgetting that the pillow wasn’t under his head until it bounced. “It really has been a long time,” he admitted in a much quieter voice. “But why do you think Crawford would tell you to come sleep with me? Is it really part of a master plan?”

He felt, rather than saw, Schuldig shrug. “Who knows with him? He sees what he can and tells us what he wants. All I know is I didn’t mind coming here to sleep with you.”

“You could have woken me,” Ken said. “If you weren’t planning to molest me in my sleep, you could have just knocked on the door and woken me.”

“Where’s the fun in that?” Schuldig asked and even Ken had to huff out a laugh. “You should cheer up. You have a gorgeous German in your bed. That would be enough to make most people ecstatic.” Ken huffed again and Schuldig dared to run his fingers down and up Ken’s bare chest. “Or, maybe I should just tickle you until you feel happy.”

Ken grabbed the fingers to still them, right over his nipple. “I’m not really into tickling.”

“Okay, what are you into?” 

Ken looked over at Schuldig sprawled out beside him like a feast of bright hair, pale limbs and lean muscle. It had been a long time. And Schuldig had the tall, slim body type that Ken had always loved, even as he squashed the memory of a certain Welsh footballer and an old broken heart. 

Instead, he released Schuldig’s hand and rolled over on top of him before Schuldig could do more than raise an eyebrow. 

“Fine, let’s do this. But we do it my way,” Ken said, already pushing down the sheet that had tried its best to dissuade him but had now become a barrier to feeling Schuldig’s bare skin all the way along his own.

Schuldig looked surprised but then reached up to pet Ken’s shoulders and smooth down the tight muscles of his back. “Whatever, a lay’s a lay,” he said as Ken’s mouth finally found his.

Schuldig decided Ken didn’t need to ever know he’d read in Crawford’s mind the real reason Crawford ordered the entire team to get out the night before. He had needed the apartment empty so he could schmooze that scientist lady from Schreient, in hopes she would give up some of the goods on Masafumi. Crawford had only told him and Farfarello to get out and find somewhere else to stay for the night so they wouldn’t interrupt whatever plans Crawford had for entertaining. It had been all Schuldig’s idea to find the warm bed of a Weiss member to crawl into, something he knew that Nagi was already enjoying. If Crawford had muttered something about the kitten with the sharpest claws being the most passionate, well, Schuldig could never pass up a challenge.

But as Ken nibbled his abused bottom lip then licked into his mouth to greedily meet his tongue, Schuldig figured that all relationships needed some mystery, so why tell?

And they all lived happily ever after (except for Yohji when he couldn’t sit down comfortably for a week after he finally got his answer about Aya’s hair. No one but Schuldig ever found out the exact cause of Yohji’s discomfort, and he certainly wasn’t going to tell because it made perfect blackmail material.).

The end


End file.
